


Caution

by bookworm03



Series: Adult Relationships [2]
Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Best Friends, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 10:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5123546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm03/pseuds/bookworm03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leslie knows he's not hers and she's careful not to take too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caution

**Author's Note:**

> They've been best friends since high school, but adulthood changes the game. 
> 
> By popular demand, a companion piece to [Coward](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5108507) (part 1 of this series). Can be read on its own, but I recommend reading them both. Thanks so so much to everyone who encouraged me to keep going with this universe. It's annoyingly fun to write. 
> 
> Still angsty. I'm sorry.

“Have you met her?” 

Ann’s melodic voice cuts through the silence and Leslie allows her eyes to open, grateful for the warm sun bathing her face. It’s almost winter and there’s a distinct frigidness clinging to the air, but it’s still pleasant. It’s still Pawnee and the lake is still crystal clear and Ron’s handcrafted chair still scoops her spine in just the right way. It _smells_ cold, like an ice rink only mingled with pine and the dampness of the forest floor and somehow that’s oddly comforting. The leaves don’t crunch under her feet anymore, and the colours have lost their vibrancy, but the fresh air still rejuvenates her. 

Ron’s there as well, though he’s off hunting turkeys, and Tom’s retreated to the cabin, intent on snuggling up in a cashmere sweater in front of a fire with Donna as company. Jerry’s being Jerry and talking too much and Ben’s on his way with Chris and Eva. 

Another season, another year, another Parks & Friends camping trip and she’s still hopelessly in love with Ben Wyatt. Ben who’s on the cusp of a serious relationship again. 

Eva. Even her name sounds sexy and exotic. Leslie pictures cascading brown curls and cat eyes with unnaturally long eyelashes; big breasts, long legs, full lips and Ben feeling inadequate. Ben fidgeting and shifting when they go out and wondering how soon was too soon to show his true self; nights worrying she might find his claymation project if she decided to snoop in his closet and trying not to get too excited when The Matrix was on, and definitely not talking about what the message boards were saying about the final film. Telling her he bought his Batman costume solely for Halloween and that he’s not really _that_ into board games… 

She pictures his jaw just barely clenched, teeth grinding every so slightly as he tries to smile and impress her with dance moves he doesn’t have. Eva laughs - in Leslie’s mind, good-naturedly - and calls him adorable and tries to teach him how to move his hips to some sexy song with unique instruments and a heavy beat that no one’s ever heard in Pawnee before, except maybe Donna. 

She imagines Ben never feeling quite himself, quite at home, and confessing it to Leslie eventually over the phone around the two month mark and asking what she thought. She can feel the unfounded resentment filling her up already, secretly hating this person for unintentionally making adorable, brilliant, love of her life Ben feel like he wasn’t _quite_ good enough and not even realizing it. 

“No,” Leslie answers Ann, grateful she’s wearing sunglasses to hide the madness behind her eyes. “Not yet. She sounds great.” 

“Les - ”

“Don’t.” 

“You guys are ridiculous. You’re both crazy about each other.” 

But they aren’t. Every story Ann hears is from Leslie’s point of view and as her mother likes to point out, Leslie’s blows things up in her mind. Leslie feels more than others and builds mountains out of molehills and it’s the same with Ben. Ben’s arm casually draped around her when they left Tom’s Halloween party was friendly to everyone else and a sign from the heavens to her. 

“He’s not.” 

“Why don’t you just _tell Ben how you feel_ and if he doesn’t feel the same then at least you’ll get some closure. For god’s sake Les, it’s been…too long. This is insane.” 

She’s right, of course. Ann Perkins is a brilliant, talented musk ox and it has been way too long, but Leslie doesn’t care. She can’t care. She needs him in her life in whatever capacity she gets to have him in. Her future plays out in so many different scenarios but in every single one Ben’s there. Ben’s applauding at her speeches, Ben’s holding her hand while they wait for election results, Ben’s clawing at his face and shaking his head with amusement and awe while she tries to get through a filibuster. He’s there when it’s over to tell her she was incredible and buy her waffles. All of her friends are amazing and supportive, but they’re not Ben. She _needs_ Ben to take on the world and reach for the stars; she needs Ben to reassure her when things start to go sour and help her fix it. Everyone else can support her, but Ben _understands_ her.

Fortune might favour the brave, but there are benefits to caution, and Leslie decided a long time ago she’d rather love him with limits than risk losing him completely. Sometimes she just has to remind herself of that. 

“Uh, hey.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut at his voice, knowing he’s behind her with a girl on his arm and wearing a flannel shirt Leslie wants to press her face against later when it smells like campfire and roasted marshmallow and him. 

“Ann Perkins!” Chris exclaims pleasantly. “You look _ravishing_ , if you don’t mind me saying so. Can I interest you in a walk?” 

Chris is new to Pawnee and has only just started rooming with Ben. Ann wants to date him, but it was unclear whether Chris had figured that out yet or was just friendly. 

“Uh, yeah, that would be great,” Leslie can tell Ann’s trying to stay mellow for her sake, but genuine excitement is threaded through the words. Leslie's happy for her, of course, and Chris needs to get his shit together and genuinely realize how incredible Ann Perkins is.

“Hi," Ann stands from the arm of Leslie’s chair and Leslie watches her hand jut out. “I’m Ann.” 

“Hi, Eva,” the voice is lighter and a touch squeaker than Leslie had anticipated, probably because she was imagining a throaty bedroom voice that oozes sex appeal. 

“Nice to meet you,” it doesn’t sound disingenuous, but it’s not _exactly_ Ann Perkins at her friendliest either. Leslie inhales, balling her fists and steeling herself as she turns around and flashes her best _Pawnee is the Greatest Town in America_ smile. 

“Hi! I’m Leslie, it’s so nice to meet you!” she doesn’t even register Eva’s appearance until she’s already clasping her hand. Dark brown curls, check. Cat eyes still a possibility though they’re hidden beneath huge sunglasses. Tall…ish. Nowhere near as tall as Ben and only an inch or two more than Ann. Taller than her, certainly, but not tall. Not Cindy tall. 

Her teeth are too perfect to be real, her skin is flawless and she’s beautiful. Completely and utterly beautiful. Ann Perkins beautiful without the adorable freckles on her nose and a complexion slightly less tan. Longer legs, a narrower waist and smaller breasts; beautiful and appropriately dressed in faded jeans, a loose fitting long sleeved shirt and down vest. 

“Leslie!” Eva exclaims, eyes widening slightly. Her handshake is weak, her fingers long and cool. “It is _so nice_ to meet you, finally. I can’t believe it’s taken this long. This one talks about you all the time,” Eva smacks Ben’s chest playfully and Leslie thinks she might not be able to look at him for the rest of the trip. The colours around her blur and all she sees is red flannel and brown hair and white teeth because this sweet, smart, exquisitely beautiful human being is leaning into him and declaring him as hers with a simple pat of her hand. 

Her stomach lurches and her heart twists painfully and she wants to blurt to Ann she’s not strong enough for this anymore. They’ve done this dance so many times it should be second nature, but instead it only gets harder with every new girl. It’s too hard to be nice when they’re wrapped around what she wants. 

“We brought…” Ben gestures to the cooler. “Burger stuff in case the fish weren’t biting.” 

“Jerry scared them away with his loud personal stories, according to Ron.” 

His mouth twitches and she aches to touch him, to throw her arms around him and squeeze him until there's no light or air between them and feel his hands on her. As friends, even. Just as friends. She hates that new girlfriends mean new caution and more boundaries and everything between them becomes less natural, less intuitive. If Eva hadn’t been there he would’ve bear hugged her and tickled her and asked if she wanted to help him set up his tent because they both knew he sucked at camping. 

Her eyes finally land on his and he’s clearly happy. It’s all there for the world to see in his eyes; he’s relaxed and his whole face is smiling because he’s enjoying the company he’s keeping. He’s content. 

And Leslie can accept that, no matter how much pain it causes her. At the end of the day, she just wants him to be happy.

 The night passes cheerfully, Ron cooking burgers while Chris talks about vegan patties and Ann hovers close by him. Tom and Donna sit, shoving food into their mouths, huddled under a sleeping back and declaring it too cold to chew, and Ben and Eva are kissing. 

Yeah, that stings. 

_Obviously_ she knows they’ve kissed. Obviously. It’s been weeks. But that doesn’t stop the pang she feels when she makes her way back to her car to get more s’more rations and sees them, Ben pressed up against his dark sedan, hands in her belt loops and fingers splayed over her ass as she kisses him thoroughly. It isn’t the cautious, tentative kisses of people newly dating. They’re deep and explorative with the clear intention of building to something. Eva sort-of-whispers about going to a Bed and Breakfast they saw a few miles back and he chuckles in a low, throaty way Leslie’s only ever heard first thing in the morning when his voice is still scratchy with sleep. 

It’s too much, too painful, too exhausting to watch this scene play out. Her eyes still burn every time she’s forced to acknowledge there’s a part of him she’ll never get to have; eyes clouded with arousal, hoarse pleas for more and big fingers gliding over skin with purpose and desire will never be hers. There will always be an undercurrent of cautiousness when he holds her because they’re not that to each other. They touch easily, but always with a sliver of reserve. They don’t claim each other with their hands. 

Leslie closes her door louder than she should, hefting the box of graham crackers under her arm and heading back to the campfire. 

Much later, Ann and Chris are playing cards (i.e. possibly making out if Ann has anything to say about it) in the all-terrain, all-climate tent he purchased and Donna and Tom are watching some slasher movie on Tom’s computer in the cabin. Ron’s had three whiskeys and is almost done a fourth, pacing around on his porch, and Jerry’s passed out in one of the bedroom’s somewhere. Ben and Eva have been MIA since she found them at his car and Leslie’s alone, by the fire, eating s’mores and motivating herself with cautious optimism. The end of autumn was a new season for Parks which was basically like New Year’s, which meant resolutions. This is her season: she resolves to get over it, him. She can’t tell him how she feels and risk losing him, and dwelling on him cuts through her like a knife in warm butter leaving her feeling empty and depleted too constantly. She can’t live like this anymore. Ann’s right. 

So there, in front of the fire, where old logs turn to dust, Leslie resolves to find a way to stop loving him. He’ll be her friend like Ann is and she’ll celebrate when he gets promoted or buys a house or gets engaged or becomes a father, and she’ll be be better for it. Stronger for it. Happier for it. 

The fire crackles when she declares this in her mind, as if it understands and accepts the promise she’s making to herself. Really, it wouldn’t change much anyway. Ben could still cheer at her speeches and sit on the stage at her Inaugural Address in a smart overcoat with silver temples...He would just be a few rows further back, next to someone he loved dearly in a much different way. He would still smile at her and clap louder than anyone and tell her she did perfectly. It would be enough. If she wasn't going to tell him how she really felt she had to accept that as enough.

Leslie convinces herself that by the end of the year she won’t pine for him anymore. No matter what he does or doesn’t do, she’ll love him as a friend and only a friend. By the end of next autumn she’ll truly understand they aren’t meant to be. 

The fire’s dried out the ground surrounding it and leaves crunch behind Leslie, startling her. It’s the universe teasing her, mocking her cautious optimism, because there he is, with messy hair and unshaven cheeks in his flannel shirt, his eyes warming her more than hot coals ever could. Her stomach twists.

“Hey!” she smiles brightly and sits up a little. “I thought you left a while ago.”

“Jerry left because Gayle missed his…something,” he makes a face. “So Ron said we could take that bed because Eva is too cold. Yes, I’m going to be sleeping in sheets Jerry probably drooled on. Let’s not talk about it.” 

Leslie _ews_ and Ben settles beside her, closer than he needs to be, but not close enough. 

“It’s freezing out here,” he shudders as he rests his elbows on his knees. Leslie shrugs. 

“I don’t mind it. Where’s Eva?” 

“Watching whatever Tom and Donna are watching,” Ben clears his throat. “You’re not still sad about the picnic thing, are you?” 

“What? Oh, no. Not at all.” 

He flexes his fingers over the fire and angles his head towards her. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You seem…off. Something’s off. And you had no public forums this week and that observatory telescope idea is the talk of City Hall, so it’s not work…And you’ve probably have had all your Christmas shopping done for months, so it’s not the continuous trips to Eagleton…” he drops his forehead against her temple and finds her hand and it’s so surprising she almost squeaks. They don’t do this when they’re sober and boyfriends or girlfriends are in the cabin a hundred yards away. They don’t touch like this, with quiet intimacy that would look wrong to anyone else watching. They’re cautious of others, of people’s perception of them. They know what this looks like to an outside observer and they don’t want to hear questions they can’t answer. 

“What’s wrong, Les?” The hoarseness in his voice startles her. It’s needy, but not lustful, desperate in a different way, but it’s there. It’s for her. 

“I don’t know,” she lies, her throat aching as she tries to keep the emotion out of her words. “Winter blues maybe.” 

“You love winter,” he reminds her gently, fingers curling through hers. “Snowball fights and hot chocolate and Christmas events for the town and Ugly Sweater parties. You’re a postcard of winter cliches. You live for this stuff.” 

“My dad - ”

“Died in February,” he begins, words laced with caution but confidence. He knows how far to push her, and she knows on February 8th he’ll be on her doorstep with a bottle of alcohol. (This year was supposed to be wine, last year was scotch and he drank it without complaint even though he thought it disgusting.) They’ll sit on her couch and watch the same three black and white movies and look through photo albums she keeps under her bed, because having them out would make her too sad all the time. He’ll point out how freckly and blonde she was as a child and laugh at pictures of her eating sand at the beach and they’ll fall asleep in a ball on her couch in front of a fire and make it through the night together. 

“You never start to really think about that until the last week in January. You _love_ Christmastime,” his hand drops hers and his arm wraps around her neck, heads pressing together. It frustrates her how much he knows her, but also drives home the fact that he understands her better than anyone. And dammit, her confidence she can get over him is faltering already. It never lasts for long. 

“I dunno, Les, I feel like I’m the one making you sad or something. Usually Ann and I tag team you until you tell us what’s up, but Ann says you’re fine and I…is it?” 

“Is it what?” 

“Me?” 

“No!” 

_Yes._

“Of course not!” 

_Definitely, just not the way you think it is._

“I don’t know, I don’t…I’m just not myself.” 

“Eva?” 

“I met her six hours ago!” 

“I’m just checking,” he shifts, but doesn’t pull away. 

“Eva seems really nice and if you’re happy I’m happy for you.” 

He quirks a smile at her and now it’s her turn to notice something’s off. The wind picks up around them and she presses her face into his flannel for warmth and god, it’s exactly like she predicted: Smoke and roasted marshmallows and him. Tears burn her eyes as his hand slides into her hair. 

“She’s nice,” he admits gently. “And smart. Really smart,” his mouth’s in her hair now and her lungs strain for breath through her constricted throat. It’s still too much, too many feelings, too much contact, too much of everything that wasn’t hers to have. 

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” He whispers like it’s a secret, a confession he shouldn’t be sharing. 

“Oh, yeah?” Her voice is shaky, but she can’t will herself to care. The tears are coming and they’ll fall onto his shirt but he’s there and solid and she can’t help it. She just doesn’t care to help it. 

“What’s anything?” 

He shrugs. “Uh, move a body?” 

“And risk getting arrested by _cops_ \- ”

“For you I would,” he clears something from his throat. “I’d even cross state lines and risk the FBI for you.” 

It’s stupid and silly, but it makes her stomach flutter. 

“Uh,” he continues. “Run your campaign, be your Chief of Staff, take the fall if you ever need a fall guy, because if I’ve learned anything from political TV shows, Presidents always need a fall guy eventually - ”

“I would _never_ let you or anyone in my administration take the fall for something I did.” 

He smiles affectionately, running his thumb over her damp cheekbone. “I know you wouldn’t, but I’d do it if you asked me - ”

“But I wouldn’t and you know that, so it doesn’t really count - ”

He covers her mouth with a hand and grins and she smacks his arm until he releases. 

“What else?” 

“Uhhh, go to war, launch a thousand ships, sail through the Underworld to bring you back - ”

She squirms and hits him again. “That’s Helen of Troy and Orpheus, you nerd.” 

“You know them too, so who’s really the nerd, here?” 

“You. Definitely. I’m just well read.” 

“I’d let you float on a piece of wood in the North Atlantic while I froze to death in the water even though there was _clearly room for both of us_ on that stupid thing and you totally didn’t seem concerned with trying to help me survive too…”

She muffles her laughter into his chest and he snorts, stroking her back. 

“Uh, retelling other people’s sappy love stories does _not_ prove anything except that you're a sucker for love stories, Wyatt.” 

“Why not,” he protests with a punch drunk smile. “I love you - _clearly_ more than Rose loved Jack - I'd do those things for you.”

“I love you too.” 

There’s a long pause as the words sink in and she’s afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell they’re under. The cautious optimism has returned, only for a different reason. A reason Ann Perkins would not approve of. The kind that feeds off of moments like these, sucking enough life out of them to give her a sliver of hope; to convince her to not count them out _just yet._

“Les,” he presses his lips to her temple. “You’d tell me if you needed anything from me, right? If you needed or wanted me to do something, you’d…you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” 

He sounds anxious and uncertain and needing to hear her say she would. 

“Of course,” her mouth lies. _Be with me_ , every other inch of her screams. 

Ben nods, her head moving with him. 

“Promise?” 

She links her pinky with his and he squeezes back cautiously. 

“Promise.”


End file.
